The 7 Sins And The Saint
by Cella N
Summary: To everyone else, Haruhi is a saint. With them, she‘s the sinner. HARUHI. KYOUYA. TAMAKI. The fun stuff only happens behind closed doors.


**A/N:** Based on the 7 sins, and written for **hc(underscore)flashfic** November round, and 1st place winner of said round. I rather like the feel of this fic. Enjoy!

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** The 7 Sins And The Saint **  
_Wild honey has the scent of freedom,  
dust--of a ray of sun,  
a girl's mouth--of a violet,  
and gold--has no perfume.  
Anna Akhmatova_

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**+ G R E E D +**

Fujioka Haruhi, the girls of the Ouran Academy thought, was incapable of being greedy.

The modest boy had shown them nothing but kindness. He shared everything, from tea, to food he cooked (a boy, _cooking_!), to his uttermost blunt opinions. The girls loved that about the natural rookie of the Host Club. You never had to worry about Haruhi keeping anything to himself. If he didn't think you were right, he told you. If he saw you didn't have enough pastries on your plate, he gave you his. If he thought you looked uncomfortable with a subject, he would change it towards something pleasant. He had been trained well, as a Host, true.

But Haruhi was a natural in dealing with the ladies nicely. He was born that perfect. His speech wasn't flourished like Tamaki's, or sensual like the twins. Of course, that was why most of the modest girls that visited the Host Club requested Haruhi as their host.

Haruhi was incapable of being greedy, or doing anything unkindly. He was honest, and nice and if the girls weren't _sure_ he was a boy, they'd think Haruhi was a girl.

However. In privacy, where the girls couldn't access Haruhi, everything was different.

Haruhi was a girl in privacy. Haruhi was still blunt, and kind, and natural, and beautiful and sweet. But she was greedy.

"Is this wrong?" she would ask them both, eyes wide when they hugged her at the same time.

"Does it feel wrong?" he, black hair and eyes but not a black heart, would ask, kissing her right under her ear.

"No," she would say, closing her eyes. "But wouldn't society frown down at you for doing this?"

"Do you think we'd care?" he, blond hair and blue eyes and a surprisingly calm voice, sensual voice, would murmur against the skin on her shoulder.

"No," Haruhi would answer, smiling slightly. The three of them, like this, are warm. She loves the Host Club, but what she loves most is the fact that when the day is over, and everyone's headed home, they are there, hugging and saying goodbye, so long, and till tomorrow. Yet still, she doesn't understand them. They're the sons of very important and rich men, and here they are, with her, the commoner. They drive her wild with this, and most of the time she wonders if she's a toy for them as well. So she asks again: "Isn't this wrong?"

He, with the black eyes and hair, chuckles softly, and kisses her nose. He, with the blond hair and blue eyes, hugs her tighter, and kisses her cheek. And they, the King and the Shadow-King, kiss each other softly, and bury their heads in the crook of her neck, each on one shoulder, hugging her close as if she's the curtain that hides them from the unsafe and dirty world. And they say: "No. This is just right."

So Haruhi, the girl, realises that she doesn't much care about what society will say about them. They are hers, and for once, just for this time, she allows herself to be greedy, and hugs them back.

**+ G L U T T O N Y +**

To Ryouji Fujioka (Ranka to his friends), Haruhi is easy to please.

He's never had the trouble of having to buy his daughter chocolate during that time of month, or sweets to make her feel loved. He doesn't need to prepare her great meals when she's depressed, or bake great cakes on her birthday. Haruhi doesn't need a full bento box, because she says it doesn't matter. Even if the people at school frown upon her poverty, she doesn't care. She's grateful for what she has, and hardly ever wishes for more.

Ryouji is proud of her daughter's asceticism. Every once in a while he will buy her a box of chocolates when he gets paid, and Haruhi's eyes will light up. Then she will tell him to stop spending money on useless things for her, because she's happy with what she has. Later, the box of chocolates would be empty, but she'll share them with him. Because Haruhi shares easily, and when it comes to food, she will settle for anything.

However, there is a side of Haruhi that her father doesn't know. She is gluttonous.

"We bought you something," he says, wiping his glasses clean and pointing to a table. The blond haired king smiles at her, his head resting on the other boy's shoulder.

"You don't have to buy me things," she tells them, unwrapping the box. "It makes me feel like one of those mistresses." She decides that if it's a piece of jewellery, she will make them swallow it.

"Haruhi is much more special than that," the blond boy says, as he makes his way to where Haruhi stands. Funny how during the Club hours he's spastic, flailing and excited, and when he's with them, he's still spastic, flailing and excited, but he's honest, and sensual, and manages to make Haruhi shiver. He leans in, and lifts the lid, kissing her cheek before presenting her present.

"Ootoroo?" she breathes, mesmerized.

"We thought it would make you feel better," the other boy says, coming near them.

She thanks them both, and digs in, devouring the wonderful delicacy with gusto. She could eat boxes and boxes of this, and never get tired. Licking her fingers clean, she looks back at the boys. "What?"

The Shadow-King smirks, tilting her head. "You didn't share," he drawls, catching her wrist and bringing it up to his lips.

"Such a glutton, Haruhi," the King teases, taking her other hand.

Synchronised, the boys start licking her fingers clean again. Haruhi closes her eyes and smiles. This is another thing she couldn't get tired of.

**+ W R A T H +**

To the females at the Zuka club, Fujioka Haruhi is one of the calmest persons ever.

Even after they kidnapped her and made her participate in their musical, Haruhi did not complain. She did not struggle. She did not scream. It makes them wonder, sometimes, if maybe Haruhi was stupid. They had heard the stories, after all, about how Haruhi had confronted a gang of guys that were messing with the club's customers, throwing rocks at them and being unafraid. But that was chivalry, after all, not wrath. Haruhi was probably incapable of it.

If she was mad at you, it would gradually pass. If she was ever mad, she would let you know with her silence. Not with her screams. Never with her screams. Haruhi was blunt, and knew how to hurt with her words; but she never chose to.

To them, unfortunately, Haruhi knew how to be wrathful.

"I told you many times," she would say, fists clenched at her sides. "No. I refuse."

"But, Haruhi," the blond boy would beg, throwing in his puppy eyes for better effect. "It's just a dress."

"It's slinky, and shows a lot, and I am not wearing it anywhere, no matter how much you insist."

"Haruhi, please?"

"No!" she would shout when she was at her wits' end. She didn't like wearing dresses and they knew that. The fact that they wanted her to wear one for a Host meeting. "I can perfectly wear a suit!"

"But, but! Our cabaret theme--"

"Tamaki," the other boy interrupts, stepping close to Haruhi. "She's right. Think about it. All those girls will see her in that dress. And the rest of the hosts will be able to see her legs, and her neck, and her shoulder…" his voice is like velvet, like a spider creating its web of manipulation.

And Tamaki falls right into it. "You will wear a suit," he says, as if there is no more space for discussion. Not that Haruhi would discuss.

"Thank you," she whispers to the boy near her.

He looks down at her, a smirk on his lips. "Oh, don't think you're out of it. I just don't want everyone else to see you like that. If it's not with him," he says, pointing at Tamaki, "then I'm not sharing you with anyone." He kisses her cheek and chuckles at her expression. "You'll wear that dress later. In _private_."

And her wrath comes back all over again.

**+ S L O T H +**

To anyone who knows her/him, Haruhi is anything but lazy.

If something needs cleaning in the house, she will do it. If the Club's run out of coffee, she'll get it. If her family needs more money, she'll find a job and make it. If it comes to working her hands to the bones, she will do it without protesting.

All her past employers have nothing but words of praise for her, the perfect hard-working employee who always does what you ask of her, with energy that not even babies have. All her classmates have nothing but words of praise for her, the perfect student, who always helps them with their homework and projects, and still has time to do hers. Her family have nothing but praise for her, the perfect daughter who always does the chores without complaint. Her father might be a bit worried too, for her, because poor Haruhi hardly ever relaxes, the bumbling bee that she is.

With them, however, Haruhi knows how to be lazy.

"Mmm, this place is wonderful," she says, eyes closed as the breeze whispers through her clothes.

She lays on the green grass, one arm under her head, and one uniform button undone. Next to her, they are in the same position, smiling. The world freezes in moments like these, when Haruhi moves her hand, grass rustling under her fingers as she seeks the hand closest to hers. Her other arm leaves from under her head, hand looking for another hand.

The spring breeze musses their hair, and Haruhi laces her fingers with each of them, bringing their hands to rest right under her breasts. One of them, she can't tell who and she doesn't want to open her eyes, boldly flickers one finger on the underside of the breast, and she breathes in.

"I don't want this to end," she says, smile on her face growing wide.

They agree even though she can't see them.

**+ E N V Y +**

To her ex-schoolmates, Haruhi had been a very modest girl.

She made due with what she had. Envy did not suit her, nor did they think her capable of having it. If a girl would come and show Haruhi her new hair-cut, or her new clothes, Haruhi would never, ever look envious of it. They would never, ever see Haruhi trying to destroy someone else's happiness, or copying anyone. Haruhi would simply congratulate, honest and nice as always, and be on her way. Perhaps that was why most of the girls liked her, and why the others didn't like her.

The girl was simple. And sometimes, most times, simple was what made a person beautiful. Not that Haruhi thought that. To the boys, Haruhi had been pretty. To the girls, she had been nice. To her enemies, she had been too modest.

But sometimes, even Haruhi feels envious.

"Who is that?" she asks the Hitachiin twins one day.

"Hmm? Oh, that's one of Kyouya and Tono's childhood friend," Kaoru replies, smirking when he notices the look in her eyes.

"Yeah, I hear they've known each other since Tono came to this school," Hikaru drawls, adding hay to the fire. "Apparently, Kyouya used to have a crush on her for some time."

Fists clench at her sides, and she turns away, leaving the hall. In the tiny adjacent room to the Music room number three, Haruhi sits on a chair and scowls. The girl-woman that is talking to her boys (_her_ boys) is beautiful. She has long hair, brown and silky and tied with pale coloured laces. She has wide eyes, sea-green and expressive. She's thin, and tall, and graceful, and everything that Haruhi isn't. So Haruhi looks at her figure, and frowns. She glares at her short hair, and scowls. She huffs, leaning her head against the table in front of her, and wonders.

"What do they see in her, anyway?"

The door opens, but Haruhi doesn't realise, her hands coming to rest near her head.

"What do they see in _me_?"

The door closes, but Haruhi doesn't realise, fingers tapping on the table.

"They probably consider me an experiment. When they graduate, I'll be forgotten. They'll be married off to some elegant high-class lady, and I'll be left at the bottom of the social scale."

One person tries to move, but is stopped by the other one. They listen for a bit.

"I'm simple, and nothing big. So why should they--"

"Because simple is beautiful," one of them whispers, stepping out of the shadows.

Haruhi lifts her head, surprised that they're both there. "What are you--"

"We were told," the other says, "You had left suddenly."

"But that guest," Haruhi murmurs as they step closer to her.

"We don't care about her," Tamaki says, kneeling in front of her.

"We care about you," Kyouya finishes, resting beside him. "No need to be envious of anyone. They should be envious of you. And they are."

They kiss her, in turns, and she leans back in her chair, and laughs at her silliness. They're right. No reason to be envious of someone who will never have what she has.

**+ L U S T +**

To the boys, Haruhi is a retard when it comes to love-lives.

The girl has no clue about how one should act near a boy. In fact, she probably doesn't know when a guy has a crush on her. Haruhi, to them, is the most asexual girl they've met, which is a pity. She will turn down any boy who asks her out in favour of her studies. Most of the times, she won't even realise that they're asking her out. Haruhi doesn't know about dating, or kissing, or anything that goes further than that. She'll probably die a virgin, which is, again, a pity. But it's all her fault, for being so uncultured when it comes to these things. Most likely, they think, she'd do better being a nun.

And oh, how wrong they are.

When Tamaki kisses her, and Kyouya unbuttons her shirt, Haruhi gasps. When Kyouya tips her head backwards for a kiss, and Tamaki busies himself with trailing kisses down her throat, to her shoulders, shedding clothes and touching skin with warm hands, Haruhi whimpers. When they lay her down on the table, impatient and aroused, and they kiss each other, Haruhi sighs softly, and watches them with wide eyes, enraptured. When Tamaki slides off her bra, and Kyouya slides her pants down her legs, Haruhi shivers, head thrown backwards and eyes closed in pleasure. And when Tamaki takes one nipple in his mouth, worshipping it as it deserves, and Kyouya twirls his tongue on the line of her panties, Haruhi moans loudly, and whimpers. In the next hour, she will moan, she will sigh, she will gasp, she will die. They will touch her, they will kiss her, they will kiss each other, and it will be filled with passion, and love, and lust.

And when both the boys take her, and she's warm and tight around them, they will smirk at each other, knowing that they're two lucky bastards. Because they're the only one who will ever see her like this.

**+ P R I D E +**

To the Host Club, Haruhi is a humble girl.

She shouldn't be, in their opinion. If anything, Haruhi should be proud to have such big grades, lovely friends, and two people that are completely and utterly in love with her. Because the Hosts know about the menage-a-trois that takes place in front of everyone's noses each day.

They think Haruhi shouldn't be humble, and shouldn't settle for anything but perfection. Because that's what she deserves. They rarely see Haruhi being prideful, not even when one horrible girl calls her stupid and ugly. They think that Haruhi is probably happy with keeping it secret. Which is completely, and utterly stupid, if you ask them. If you have Ohtori Kyouya and Suoh Tamaki wrapped around your pinkie finger, you flaunt it, and use it, and abuse it, and show it to everyone. The Hosts wonder if Haruhi will ever do that, since they've heard her once, telling her two boyfriends/lovers/best-friends that they had to keep it in secret or else their families would disown them, and she could _not_ live with knowing that she destroyed them. They figure out Haruhi will probably keep it a secret for a long time.

But Haruhi, being Haruhi, surprises them again.

The entire Host Club has been gathered one night, to have dinner at the Ohtori mansion. Apparently, even Tamaki's father has been invited, because the Ohtori family had something important to say. Well, not them, but rather just Kyouya's father. By the look on Kyouya's face, he has no idea what it is, either.

"I've decided on my son's future wife," the man declares, and some of them choke on their food. Haruhi doesn't move.

"What?" Kyouya hisses, clenching his fork hard. Next to him, Tamaki grabs his hand under the table. Across from him, Haruhi taps his right calf with her toes.

"Yes, yes, she is a very respectable young lady, comes from a good social class, and I think it will be a good dea--"

"I refuse," Kyouya says. Tamaki clenches his hand tighter.

"You can't refuse," his father says. "You might not love her now, and I understand that you should be wary of that fact, but in time, you will learn to cherish her."

"I _refuse_," Kyouya repeats.

"Marriage shouldn't be a deal," Tamaki protests beside him. "Marriage should be about love, always."

On the other end of the table, Tamaki's father smiles.

"Marriage with love? Boy, there is no such thing as that in these times," Kyouya's father spats.

"You're wrong." All heads turn to Haruhi, some eyes widening at the look in her eyes. Fierce and directed at the Ohtori senior. "You're _wrong_. Marriage is always about love, or else it's not marriage, it's just a deal. Kyouya-senpai does not deserve living with a person who won't love him."

"Oh? As if anyone could love my son. He's too cold, he's too disciplined and too locked up to such a petty feeling."

Haruhi stands up from the table, chair scrapping against the floor. She leans her palms against the table, and looks at Kyouya. "_I_ love him." She looks at Tamaki next to him, and smiles. "We both love him." And then she closes her eyes, and stands up straight. When she opens them, she's the perfect example of a person experiencing pride. "I love them both."

There's a tangent silence in the room, until someone starts snickering. Tamaki's father starts laughing with mirth, pointing at his long time rival. "Ha! I _told_ you, Yoshio!" he shouts, proud.

Ohtori Yoshio rolls his eyes, his face sour for a moment.

"Pay up!" Yuzuru Suoh demanded, smirking.

"Wh-what is this?" Kyouya asks.

"We wondered how long it would take you three to make it public," his father explained. "And Yuzuru suggested a bet. I sped things up."

"Father," Tamaki says, "You're…you two are okay with this?"

His father shrugs. "Weirder things have happened, son. A threesome is nothing big."

The Ohtori patriarch, however, looks at Haruhi. "You, young lady, made me lose my bet," he declares. "I had thought it would be Tamaki the one to voice it first." His eyes narrow. "As punishment, you are to remain forever at my son's side."

"And at mine's," the Suoh patriarch pips up.

Haruhi smiles, proud and amused, and answers: "Gladly."

And that is that.

::end::


End file.
